Let Me Fly
by lemonygoodness1998
Summary: Sometimes all you need is some space to fly.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harper's POV

"Harper! Get down here this instant, young lady!" a shrill scream came through the door. I flung the flimsy piece of wood open and yelled down the stairs.

"What now!?" I yelled.

"I said to come down here!" the voice responded. I had been living with my Great Aunt Lucinda for less than half an hour and she had already managed to find something wrong with me. Figures. That's what my stepmother had sent me there to London for, anyway. I reluctantly made my way down the carpeted staircase and came into the parlor only to be greeted by a very pissed Aunt Lucinda.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of me.

"The meaning of what? Ma'am," I quickly tacked the last part on. She seemed to be slightly appeased by it, but she still stood straight and fuming in front of me.

"The 'this' I am referring to," she said, irritated, "is this feather lying on the carpet! I told you there were to be no animals in this house!"

_Oh shit._

I quelled the absolute terror in my chest and sighed instead of screaming.

"She's injured," I whined. "Can't I just take care of her until she's well enough to fly on her own?"

"She is a filthy animal! Who knows what diseases she may carry, and handling diseased vermin is not at all becoming of a young lady such as yourself."

"Perhaps I should avoid _you_ then, Aunt Lucinda." I regretted it the moment it left my lips. The woman turned absolutely beet red and advanced upon me.

"Excuse me?" she huffed angrily. I could practically see the steam escaping her ears. "Do my ears deceive me or did you just call me vermin?"

"Your ears deceive you, ma'am. I called you _diseased_ vermin." _Crap! Foot in my mouth!_

She turned even redder, if possible, and slapped me across the face.

"Your mother told me I had my work cut out for me, but she mentioned nothing about such a smart mouth!"

"That woman is not my mother," I snarled. "Nobody can replace my mother."

"According to the American legal system, my daughter can!"

"According to genetics, nobody can!"

"Well, your genetics is mistaken, Harper. Even your name is uncivilized. What kind of filthy woman must your genetic mother have been to name you such a name?"

Enraged, I felt my face heat up to the point of exploding. _Nobody_ insulted my mother.

"I would have thought a civilized woman such as yourself would have found it unladylike to speak badly of the dead," I said steadily. That earned me another slap across the face.

"Go to your room," she commanded lowly. It was obvious that I had shaken her. "And get rid of that bird."

"Good choice of words," I said before turning on my heel and stomping up the stairs and into my room.

My room was littered with yellowed cardboard boxes, all stuffed to the brim with books and sheet music and records, etc. Trying to get my mind off of my bitch of a step-aunt, I fished my knife from my pocket and sliced through the packing tape sealing one of the boxes. Beneath the cardboard flaps and packing paper lay a stack of books. All fantasy, science fiction, and adventure, as per my personal taste.

The top book was Peter Pan.

I smiled sadly at the memories that bubbled up: my mother tucking me into bed and reading a chapter to me, a young Harper curled up on the couch watching the Disney movie on loop, me and my mother playing pirates in the front yard. A single tear dripped on to the weathered cover and I hurriedly wiped my eyes. There would be no crying. Crying didn't solve anything.

I moved on, unpacking and organizing and shelving books for hours as I recalled all those bittersweet memories of the farm. But, as always, in the back of my mind, Peter Pan lingered as a phantom.

There was nothing I wouldn't have given for a trip to Neverland.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Peter's POV

There was a tug at the base of my neck. And that could only mean one thing.

"Come on, Tink!" I crowed excitedly. "Somebody's wishing!"

Tinkerbell zoomed up from her little fairy house and chimed excitedly by my ear.

"I'm excited too! I hope it's a boy a bit closer to my own age." I added the second sentence under my breath so as not to upset any of the Lost Boys. I had gained quite a crowd of new Lost Boys after the originals had gone to live in the normal world. I still visited the originals until they had grown too old to remember me; it had been depressing, and I had cried a lot, but I saw that they were all very happy with their new lives.

It had been particularly painful when Wendy ceased to leave her window unlocked.

Every visit aged me slightly. I estimated myself to be about sixteen or seventeen now. But now I would get a new friend! This wish was the strongest I had ever felt, so I guessed it was from someone on the cusp of adulthood.

Tink and I whizzed through our encampment and zoomed into the sky. I crowed, a crow which was enthusiastically copied by the Lost Boys.

"Sammy, you're in charge!" I called down to the oldest of the Lost Boys. He shouted excitedly, which was the last thing I heard before Tink and I shot outside Neverland's atmosphere.

We were engulfed in a tunnel of filtered pixie dust as we flew down to the human world. Suddenly, we burst through the atmosphere and raced to the right, where the tug on my neck was strongest. The London skyline came into view, and my heart skipped a beat: this was where they all went over eighty years earlier. Tink made a sound of recognition, and we pressed forward.

The tug suddenly yanked me to the left, towards the older houses in town. The moon illuminated the darkened cobblestone streets in a blue wash, just like that fateful night when I had collected Wendy and her brothers. I zoomed past blackened windows and shot to the left again. The tug suddenly relented in front of a tall, skinny house connected to other tall, skinny houses. I gulped.

This was - had been - Wendy's house.

I heard a huge bang from upstairs, where the nursery window was. Tink and I floated silently to the window and peeked inside.

"Take off that ridiculous jacket, Harper! It's not becoming of you!"

"I'm not taking off my hoodie! It's a freaking meat locker in this house!"

"You will not use that kind of language with me, young-"

"Oh, please.'Freaking' is not a swear word."

"It's close enough to one!"

"And how exactly would you know, Aunt Lucinda? Have you been exposing yourself to something illicit? How scandalous!"

"Watch your tone, you brat!"

The entire conversation sounded through the door to the nursery, which was flung open wide. A dizzying number of boxes were scattered about the room, books upon books and round, black discs and a strange stringed box with a skinny neck lying haphazardly atop clothes and more books. Someone had obviously just moved in.

"I will watch my fucking tone when you can learn to respect me!"

A strangled gasp escaped the shrillest voice.

"How dare you use such absolutely filthy language?"

"Oh, uncomfortable with the word 'fuck', are we? Well, fuck you!"

"Excuse you!"

"Yeah! Fuck you, fuck this house, fuck your rules, fuck your daughter-"

"Go to your room!"

"Fucking gladly! I can wear a hoodie in peace up there!"

Suddenly, a heavy clomping sounded as someone angrily ascended the stairs. A fuming black-hooded figure burst into the nursery and threw the door closed so forcefully that a crack appeared down its center.

"And fuck these flimsy-ass English doors!" it screamed at the split door before storming over to a desk in the corner. On the desk lay a clear box lined with towels. The boy gingerly lifted a black form from the box and began to examine it. It was then I recognized the blob as a small bird.

"When you're all better," the boy murmured gently to the bird, "you'll get to fly away from all your problems." The boy scoffed and leaned his head against the desk while still cradling the bird. "Doesn't that sound nice?" He looked back to the creature in his hands before setting it back in its bed and fishing something from another box. He then unscrewed the cap to a large bottle filled with some kind of slimy yellow substance.

Tink and I looked at each other and cringed.

The boy took a small tube (an "eye-dropper", I had heard others call them) and filled it with the substance, then offered it to the little bird. It lapped it up gratefully, smearing it messily across the feathers of its face. The boy laughed lightly and used his fingers to wipe away the mess.

"You messy girl," he teased. When the bird was done eating, the boy stretched out one of its wings and ran his fingers along the bone. He nodded and sighed.

"You're all healed now, sweetie," he said. "It's time for you to go be with your birdy friends, now." The bird chirped as in protest, but soon hopped from his hand and scuttled around the desk before pooping. I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from erupting in howls of laughter. The boy just sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before using one of the towels that lined the bird's bed to wipe up the excrement.

"You know, I'm starting to see what that old bat downstairs means by 'disgusting animals'," he chuckled. Standing up slowly, he scooped the bird into his hands and made for the window. Tink and I quickly flew to the top of the dormer so as to be out of sight; we both wanted to see more of this guy. He opened the window and leaned on the sill with his elbow, holding the bird over the edge. Next, he leaned his face down to the bird in his hands and whispered.

"You're free now, girlie."

And, as if she understood, the little black bird jumped from the boy's hands and flew off into the night sky to find a roost somewhere in London. The boy held his position for a moment, gazing after his friend and letting the breeze ruffle his jacket. I was suddenly reminded of when I had led Wendy and the others back to this world; I knew I would find the same sadness in this boy's eyes that Tink had said was held in mine.

Then, leaving the window open, he retreated back into his room to grab something and shove it into his pocket, then he began to climb out the window.

Tink and I immediately ducked to the side as he gripped the top of the window's dormer and hoisted himself on to the roof. He had a sort of feline grace about his movements, especially as he climbed to the apex of the roof and perched atop it.

Letting out a long sigh, he reached to the front of his hood to pull it back.

Great! I thought. Now we'll get to see how old he is!

Boy, was I in for a surprise.

Now, I hadn't seen a girl other than Tinkerbell in over eighty years. But with what I remembered of Wendy, I was absolutely certain that this was no boy.

With pale skin, a sharp jaw with a scar running along one side, icy blue eyes, and a short ribbon of black hair running down her back, she was unlike any creature I had ever seen before. I had thought all girls looked similar to Wendy, with blonde curls and frilly dresses and polite and motherly personalities (in fact, all of her friends whom I had seen in her room throughout the years looked quite similar); this one seemed so above everything that I couldn't help but stare in awe.

No girl, other than Wendy and this one, had ever wished to stay a child. And I wasn't quite sure what to make of her.

She pulled the band from her hair, allowing her neck-length hair to fall freely around her face. She blew a puff of air upwards to get the hair out of her eyes, but it just flopped back into place moments later. Huffing, she ran a hand over her head to smooth her hair, then pulled a strange contraption from her jacket's pocket. She placed two small buds in her ears, then touched parts of the box which she held in her hand. The tension in her shoulders suddenly released and she flopped down to lie on the roof, staring up at the stars.

_It's... a girl._

Tink was vibrating angrily beside me, an angry red glow emanating from her. It was obvious that she was already jealous.

"Hush, Tink," I said. "It's just a girl." She got even angrier. I rolled my eyes at the pixie. "I'm still going to get her."

Tink jingled incessantly, warning me of the dangers of having a girl around: being too weak to fight pirates, too slow to run from them, too feminine to understand boys- I silenced her with a look.

"We're collecting her," I told her. "She made a pure-hearted wish and so I'm taking her to Neverland." Before she could protest any further I flew up in the air and landed beside the girl on the roof. I kicked her foot.

"You wanted to go to Neverland?" I asked with a grin. She opened her eyes and screamed before she jumped up and away from me. She pulled the things from her ears and yanked some kind of knife from her back pocket, wielding it threateningly.

"Who the fuck are you?" she demanded. I looked back at Tink.

"Still think she's too feminine?" I chuckled. I got punched in the face.


End file.
